Page 109 of Hotter in the Hamptons

Lola didn’t know what to say. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.Before she could text back anything, Aly sent,Have a nice life, Lola.

For a second, Lola wondered if she was going to cry some more. Instead, she started laughing.

It was just so fucking ridiculous. And childish. It told her everything she needed to know about her decision: mainly, that it was the right one. Often, the way people act in a breakup justifies the breakup itself, she knew.

When she settled, she wrote,This is such a stupid way to end things, but if that’s what you want, fine. I hope you have a nice life too. Thanks for changing mine. I’ll never forget you.

Aly didn’t respond.

Lola didn’t expect her to.

So that was that. Nearly three months of falling in love, over with a text. It stung, even while she knew it was for the best. Aly might have been the best sex of her life—yes, she thought, even better than Justin—but it came at a cost, and that cost was that she also made Lola feel insane.

You don’t end up with a person who makes you feel insane, she thought. You sleep with them until it’s no longer fun, and then you get out while you still can—hopefully with your dignity intact.

She was a new Lola. She knew how she deserved to be treated. There would be no going back.

***

The next day, Lola started making clothes.

When the puffed-sleeved polka-dot dress was done, she moved on to the seventies maxi dress with long bell sleeves and orange flowers, which she turned into a mini dress and added lace trim. When that was done, she dove into her closet, pulling out sweaters she hadn’t worn inyears and pinning them into different shapes, finally deciding to cut them up and make a long, patchwork cardigan.

She left the house once to go to the art store, where she bought fabric paint and brushes, stopping at her favorite bodega for an iced black coffee and an egg-and-cheese bagel. God, how she’d missed a good, greasy egg and cheese. She ate it while she walked back to the apartment, grease on her chin and her mouth in a wild grin. The sky was a bright, cloudless blue, the birds chirping madly in leafy, green trees, the traffic a thrilling cacophony of honking and shouting. She was home, and everything felt new. Like she’d been flipped inside out and could feel for the first time again, nerve endings exposed. She was raw, stripped bare, totally vulnerable, and absolutely, completely alive.

She peered directly into the faces of everyone who walked by, filled with curiosity. Who were they? What were they like? What did they dream about? Who did they love? Some people smiled at her, and others averted their gaze, but it didn’t matter. There was promise and potential everywhere.

She was, for the first time in a long time, coming unstuck.

When she got home, she took out the vintage overalls and began painting an intricate floral pattern up one of the legs: a pale green tendril with delicate leaves and bright pink flowers.

She lay her creations around her apartment on display.

She knew if anyone were to walk in, they would think she was having a manic episode. But they’d be wrong. Lola had never felt more sane in her life.

She tried everything on, taking a picture in the full-length mirror of each one. Then she texted them in a batch to Ryan.

What do you think?

I think you’re a little rusty, he replied.

Oh my god, she responded, but she was laughing as she texted,You’re so mean.

Sorry!!!he replied.I like that you’re doing this. Honestly. I really think this is what you’re meant to be doing. Proud of you bb.

She sighed.

Maybe shewasrusty. It was always hard to tell the actual quality of her own creations because she loved them too much to be objective. But it was possible she had a lot to learn. She could see that.

She opened her laptop and pulled up the Fashion Institute of Technology website. Maybe, she thought, she could sign up for some classes. Brush up on her skills. Get back in the weeds of fabrics and designs.

Or maybe, instead of dabbling in classes here and there, she could enroll in a proper certificate program. Actually learn something all the way through, become an expert at it. Do it for real. FIT offered certificate programs in Haute Couture, Draping Techniques, Pattern Making, and more.

If Lola was being honest with herself—something she was too scared to be in the past—nothing had ever sounded more interesting. She wanted to learn all of it.

And then perhaps someday she could launch a line of dresses. Not as a collaboration with Shopbop nor even as Lola Likes but as herself. Lola Fine. A bona fide designer. Maybe eventually she could open up a little boutique somewhere downtown or even in Brooklyn, where she’d display her dresses and tailor pieces for clients in the back. Eventually, she’d show at NYFW or maybe even Paris instead, where all the cool brands were heading these days.

Instead of getting paid to wear clothing other people designed, she could get paid for other people to wearherdesigns.

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